


A La Danseur

by sophiahelix



Series: Tumblr Prompts [11]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Athletic Sex, First Time, M/M, Post-Cup of China, unusual sex positions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-06 22:24:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12827385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophiahelix/pseuds/sophiahelix
Summary: “I just feel so awkward around people I don't know well, even the other skaters.” Yuuri twists his hands, and it must be the champagne because he's horrified to hear himself ask, “Do you think they like me?”Victor sticks his head back out of the closet. “Well, I like you, so it doesn’t matter.”Yuuri just stares at him, knowing his mouth is open. “Wait, what?”“What?” Victor shuts the closet door. He pauses a moment, and Yuuri sees him swallow hard, throat working. “Yuuri, did you not know? What did you think?”





	A La Danseur

**Author's Note:**

> I combined a great prompt from flammablehat (the dialogue in the summary) with a suggestion in a community post to use one of the more unusual positions from the Gay Sex Position Guide (extremely NSFW reference pics here: https://gaysexpositionsguide.com/danseur/ ) Resulting filth is nobody’s fault but my own.
> 
> Warnings for handwaved condoms and not-lube as lube (enthusiastic consent all around). 
> 
> Edit: this is also slightly AU, as you’ll note from the opening paragraph — I thought it would be fun to move their first kiss elsewhere.

Yuuri thought Victor was going to kiss him, after the free skate in China. The way Victor came flying at him, arms outstretched, their faces so close together…but then Victor was embracing him instead, and they fell to the ice, Victor’s weight heavy and welcome and unexpected on top of him. Yuuri blushed and smiled, and it was as much from happiness and exhaustion as shame at what he almost did, caught Victor's mouth with his own as Victor came near. In front of all these people, on camera, no less.

Victor stood up, offering a hand, and Yuuri thought how strange it is that just being embraced by Victor Nikiforov was a _disappointment_ now.

He slept well that night, at last. In the morning he skated his exhibition routine at the gala, the simplified version of “Stammi Vicino” that brought Victor to Japan all those months ago. He kept catching sight of Victor at the wall, bobbing his head along with the music and lifting his arms at the jumps. The way he does it, it almost feels like they're skating the routine together.

So now they're at the banquet, which is loud and hectic as always, once the competition is over. Yuuri keeps himself to two glasses of champagne, mindful of the terrible hangover he had in Sochi last winter. Tonight he isn't hunched in the corner, feeling shy and miserable, but it takes a different kind of bravery to make the rounds of the room on Victor’s arm.

Victor knows _everyone_ and everyone loves him. They smile at Yuuri too, friendly enough, but he sees it again and again, the puzzlement in their eyes. _Why him?_

Eventually he loses Victor to a crowd of ISU officials, and Phichit pulls him aside to play a game they made up years ago with buffet snacks and plastic cups, flicking them at the end of a table. Phichit, who won gold in his first major event of the year, and looks like he's been wanting to get Yuuri alone all week.

“Are you… _doing it_?” he whispers, flicking a small cracker into the cup Yuuri’s holding. “With _him_?”

“ _No_ ” Yuuri hisses back, glancing around to make sure no one heard. “He's my coach.”

“I still can't believe that,” Phichit says, shaking his head. He flicks another cracker.

“Neither can anyone else,” Yuuri mutters.

Victor comes to find him at last, face lighting up when he sees Yuuri. That's another thing Yuuri can't get used to, the way Victor always seems to be so happy around him, _because_ of him, even. All those years that Victor was a picture on his wall, a figure on the far side of the rink, and now he's here with his hand on Yuuri's shoulder, eyes sparkling.

“Did you get enough to eat? Did you talk with the director? I know she wanted to speak with you…”

“I'm tired,” Yuuri says, moving out from under his grasp. He glances around again, feeling like everyone is looking at them, all wondering what Victor could be thinking. “I'm ready to go up to the room.”

“All right, if you're sure,” Victor says. “Wait a moment and I'll come with you.”

He strides off, raising his hand and addressing a short man in a suit. Yuuri can't help noticing how well Victor's own suit fits him, pulling tight across his broad shoulders when he lifts his arm.

Beside him, Phichit whistles. “Up to your room? Get it, Yuuri.”

Yuuri flushes. “It's not like that.”

He hurries after Victor into the banquet room, going to wait by the door. There's a table nearby, clustered with full champagne glasses, and he feels a pang of guilt as he snags one and drains it, fast. Three’s not so many for him. He barely feels it.

Then Victor comes back, and Yuuri feels _everything_.

They shared a room at the block competition. They've shared a room here too, the last few nights. There's nothing different between then and now except three glasses of champagne, a silver medal, and the way Victor paraded him around the banquet room tonight, showing him off. The way Victor embraced him last night, and the heart-stopping certainty Yuuri had that it was going to be a kiss instead.

Victor hanging on his wall was easy. Across the ice, too. Now is the hard part, when Yuuri keeps feeling the right to something more, and just as strongly the sense that he should never ask, that just _thinking_ it is too much. He didn't have to risk anything with a picture, or an idol. Back then Victor just smiled.

Now Victor shuts the hotel room door behind them and reaches forward to take off Yuuri’s suit coat, fingers grasping Yuuri's collar. Yuuri startles, but relaxes his shoulders and steps into the room, letting Victor pull the fabric down his arms. 

He turns around, a little dizzy. “I'm sorry I didn't, uh, circulate around the room tonight, like you wanted me to.”

Victor’s already got the closet door open, hanging up Yuuri’s coat and his own, and his voice is muffled. “Don't be sorry. I just hate to see you waste opportunities.”

Yuuri doesn't even know what Victor means by that, not fully. Sponsors and federations are still a mystery to him; someone's always offered just enough money to supplement what his parents can afford, and he's able to keep going. He wouldn't even know how to have the kind of career that Victor does.

“I just feel so awkward around people I don't know well, even the other skaters.” Yuuri twists his hands, and it must be the champagne because he's horrified to hear himself ask, “Do you think they like me?” 

Victor sticks his head back out of the closet. “Well, I like you, so it doesn’t matter.” 

Yuuri just stares at him, knowing his mouth is open. “Wait, what?” 

“What?” Victor shuts the closet door. He pauses a moment, and Yuuri sees him swallow hard, throat working. “Yuuri, did you not know? What did you think?”

It takes a moment for Yuuri to blink, shaking his head. It feels like he's a beat behind, slow. “I don't know. You mean — you have respect for me, right? As a student, or as a skater?”

He can hear how breathy his own voice is, and he remembers, suddenly, their conversation in the dimly-lit carpark last night, echoing noise and the rich stench of exhaust all around them. Victor pushing him, threatening to leave, to take responsibility for Yuuri's own failures. Yuuri didn't understand it; he knew Victor wanted to see this through, that he cares, but Yuuri's tried not to think about in what way. To hope for what he can't have.

Now Victor passes his hand across his own forehead, pushing his hair out of his eyes. He licks his lips before he speaks. “Of course I do, Yuuri,” he says, sounding gentle but shaken. “Is that what you want from me? Respect?”

Victor asked him this once before, on a windy day on the beach months ago. It was teasing then but he sounds serious now, like he's really asking. Like he might want a different answer tonight.

Three glasses of champagne isn't very much. It’s not enough for Yuuri to say any of the confusing, complicated things in his head, but it’s just enough for him to stand his ground, hands clenched, willing himself to keep looking up. 

Yuuri takes a breath. 

“Victor,” he says, soft and high. It’s almost a question.

Now he sees Victor swallow hard, looking back at him. There's something of last night’s expression in Victor’s cool blue eyes, when Yuuri burst into tears in front of him; a stunned wariness, like Yuuri is a raging fire giving off too much heat. Victor’s no good with strong emotions, Yuuri thinks, and he isn't either but it's not like he's ever had a choice.

He moves closer, craning his head up. Willing his body to speak for him, taking the risk that he can't with his words. His chest comes into contact with Victor’s, and then he gathers all his courage and puts his hands on Victor’s shoulders, pressing him back against the hotel room door.

Victor’s hands come up, palms on Yuuri’s cheeks. The fire is in his eyes now, all that piercing coolness turned hot and intense. “Yuuri,” he murmurs, and the world is still and singing for a moment before he leans down into a kiss.

This is better than talking, better than anything. It's warm and so good, feeling Victor’s firm lips against his, inhaling the scent of his body and cologne, hearing the faint, longing whine he makes through his nose. Yuuri kisses him a little harder, heart pounding desperately, taking what he can while this wild, unexpected moment lasts.

And then Victor turns them, crushing Yuuri against the wall. He pulls back to take a gasping breath and kisses Yuuri again, and again, until they're both breathless, hands buried in each other's hair. Now it's Yuuri who's stunned, in the face of this passion he never expected; Victor kissing his lips swollen and sore, fumbling down to pull Yuuri’s shirt from his pants, hands lingering at his belt. Victor leans away and Yuuri groans, reaching up to yank him back by his tie, down into another bruising kiss.

“Please,” Victor gasps, rocking his hips against Yuuri’s. His dress pants are thin, and Yuuri can feel how hard he is. “Yuuri, let me show you — ”

“What,” Yuuri breathes. He keeps his hand wound in Victor’s tie, the tension tight, and Victor _lets_ him.

Victor shakes his head once, a faint smile stealing across his face, gone in an instant. “How much I like you.”

Then he pulls away from Yuuri’s grasp, going to his knees, and Yuuri groans again as Victor undoes his belt with a flick. This is a moment he's thought of so often, all last summer and so many summers and winters before that, but he never imagined it would happen with such care, such tenderness in Victor’s hands. Victor rubs his cheek against Yuuri before taking his zipper down, and then his fingers are at Yuuri’s waistband, dragging down his trousers and briefs until Yuuri’s bare before him.

“Ah,” Yuuri sighs, shaky, dropping his hands on Victor’s head. The roaring in his ears is so loud, and Victor’s breath is so warm. His lips are warm too, and soft as he mouths over the head of Yuuri’s cock, and Yuuri can't help the soft cry he lets out when Victor’s hands wrap around his hips, beginning in earnest.

But it happens so sweet and so slow. Victor licks and nibbles and tastes, using his hands and his tongue, touching Yuuri everywhere. He takes Yuuri in, letting him stretch the circle of his lips, hair falling across his eyes. The tips of his fingers trace the join of Yuuri’s thigh and hip, the sparse curly hair around his cock, moving lower. He pushes, insistent, until Yuuri finally moans and widens his legs as much as he can, letting him in.

Victor touches him, rubbing. Takes his hand away and lifts his head, sucking on two fingers with a long, wet sound. Looks Yuuri in the eye once more, challenging and serious, before leaning in again.

Yuuri holds on tight to Victor’s hair, silky between his fingers. Victor doesn't seem to mind. His fingers return, slick and seeking, and Yuuri lets out a shocked whimper as they slide inside, working deeper. Victor pulls Yuuri closer with a hand on his hip, tilting him up, until Yuuri’s riding his face and his hand, up on his toes with his back against the wall, gasping.

“Victor,” Yuuri says, desperate. “ _Victor_.”

He moans and bangs his head on the wall when Victor takes him all the way in, slipping into that tight soft place at the back of his throat. Victor shifts, getting up more, and does it again, curling his fingers until Yuuri can hardly stand it.

He's going to come down Victor’s throat. He wants it so much, and he's so flushed and dizzy it's hard to think straight, but he manages to gasp out “ _stop, stop_ ,” pulling away.

Victor lifts up immediately. His mouth is red and wet, but he looks concerned, eyes wide. “Yuuri — ”

“Fuck me,” Yuuri pants, pushing Victor’s hair out of his face. “I need you to fuck me.”

For an awful moment, the words hang in the air, and Yuuri’s stunned he said them at all, that he even _thought_ them. Then Victor blinks, and he's getting up on his feet, reaching for Yuuri. He takes hold of Yuuri’s arms, tugging him forward, but Yuuri shakes his head, resisting. This moment is so unreal, and it feels like he could ask for anything.

“Right here,” Yuuri says, still breathing hard. 

Victor stares at him, and then he nods, spinning around to duck into the bathroom.

Yuuri takes a gasping breath and then reaches for his pants, shoving them all the way down. He steps out of his shoes and kicks away his clothes, leaving on his socks and shirt, tie still hanging down. He doesn't think Victor cares.

When he looks up Victor is back, a bottle of lotion in his hand and a wild look in his eye. His hair is mussed from Yuuri’s touch, and his dress pants are tented obscenely. Yuuri doesn't know where to look first.

“Come here,” Yuuri says, rasping.

Victor tastes like him, when they kiss. That’s something Yuuri’s always loved, and to taste it now, on Victor’s lips, makes him moan, reaching down to pull Victor’s hips harder against him. Victor tilts his head, kissing over the side of Yuuri’s neck, using his teeth until Yuuri gasps, clutching at him. 

“Good, good, you feel so good,” Victor murmurs. He kisses Yuuri gently before biting him again. “I know you're going to be so good, Yuuri.”

Yuuri works his hand to Victor’s fly, determinedly. Victor’s cock is straining against the fabric of his pants, and he's so eager it's tricky to get him free. Finally Yuuri has his hand around the hot bare weight of him, and Victor groans and bites his ear.

“Wait,” Victor says, and pushes himself more upright. He uncaps the lotion and gets some on his hand, reaching down to stroke himself. His face is still close to Yuuri’s and they're both breathing hard, sharing the same air. Yuuri sways forward and kisses him once, roughly, before leaning back against the wall and sliding down.

He lifts his leg, knee pressed against Victor’s hip. Victor turns his head, looking back and forth between it and Yuuri’s face.

“Like that?” he asks, voice almost comically high.

Yuuri nods.

Victor squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, and then reaches down to grip Yuuri’s calf, fingers tucked beneath his knee, lifting it higher. He grips himself with the other hand, bending his knees deeply and leaning in, and Yuuri hisses in a breath as he feels the head of Victor’s cock pressing against him.

“You don't need — ” Victor asks, breathless.

Yuuri shakes his head. He's past caring about anything, now. “ _Fuck me._ ”

Victor groans and sinks inside. Or at least as far as he can; the height difference makes the angle difficult, and Yuuri’s still adjusting, trying to take him in. He grits his teeth, holding onto Victor’s shoulders and lifting his leg more. Victor braces himself with a hand against the wall and pulls Yuuri’s leg even higher, knee level with his shoulder now. He rocks his hips, working in a little deeper, and they're both panting, staring at each other as they strain to make this happen.

“I think — if I — ” Yuuri gasps, and with a burst of effort he lifts his leg all the way, straightening until his ankle rests on Victor’s shoulder. He leans back against the wall, hips tilting up, and Victor groans deeply and finally shoves all the way inside.

Yuuri shuts his eyes, still breathing hard. Victor feels so big inside him, with hardly any preparation for it, and he’s stretched all over, balancing on one foot. He spreads his arm against the wall, holding himself up, and keeps the other resting across Victor’s shoulders, reaching over to wrap his fingers around his own ankle.

“Yuuri,” Victor whispers, and he sounds so overwhelmed, his voice breaking. “Look at you. God…”

And then he starts to move.

It's slow but smooth, the way his muscles flex and his knees bend, pulling out and pushing back inside. Yuuri feels it all so much, and he breathes raggedly, gasping for air as his fingers dig into his ankle. Victor cups his ass, pulling him forward onto every thrust of his hips, and Yuuri moans and reaches down for his own cock, half-hard now his attention’s been elsewhere. He strokes himself desperately, his head falling back against the wall, and Victor leans in to suck at his neck again, hard and stinging.

“There — just like that — ” Yuuri breathes, hardly able to speak. His face is so hot and the pleasure is so sharp all through his body, a roaring imminent tide he's not sure he’ll be able to stand up through. Victor is murmuring in his ear, fucking him slow and steady, and Yuuri can't touch himself fast enough, can't do anything but gasp louder and louder as the moment approaches.

“ _Oh_ ,” he groans, his hand faltering, and Victor thrusts in a little harder.

“That's it, sweetheart, come on, I've got you,” Victor says, low. He keeps rocking his hips, filling Yuuri up, and Yuuri squeezes tight and jerks himself wildly, crying out as he comes over his hand.

Victor really does have to hold him up through it. His whole body shudders, and his supporting leg goes weak, knee buckling. Yuuri feels it everywhere, in his cock and where he's clenched tight around Victor, and he struggles for breath after, tears in the corners of his eyes. His raised leg aches, the way he's been straining forward, and he lets out a soft noise of discomfort, twisting his hips. 

“Here,” Victor says, and he shifts quickly, pulling out and moving back, easing Yuuri’s leg off his shoulder. He catches it halfway down, though, his hand hooked beneath Yuuri’s knee, and Yuuri opens his eyes, still breathing hard.

“Victor?” he asks.

Victor’s still hard. His cheeks are flushed, and his eyes are bright. “Can I — hold you up? Against the wall?”

Yuuri smiles, a broad grin that feels wide and silly. His body’s still pulsing with pleasure, and his ears are ringing, everything light and tingling. “If you think you can do it.”

Victor’s eyes flash. He smiles for just a moment, before moving in. 

He put Yuuri’s leg around his waist, and then grips the back of Yuuri’s other thigh, yanking it up. Yuuri shifts his weight, wrapping both legs tight and resting his arms on Victor’s shoulders as Victor gets him up, hands beneath his ass. He lets out a short, surprised laugh at the ease with with Victor lifts him, and then he feels the head of Victor’s cock, sliding back inside.

Victor leans forward, pressing him against the wall, dropping his forehead against Yuuri’s. “Good enough?” he asks.

“We’ll see,” Yuuri says, breathless, and then Victor’s moving again.

This time it's fast, snapping his hips, but Yuuri still feels every bit of it, stretched tight around Victor’s cock. Victor pulls him down onto it every time, letting out a soft groan as their bodies meet, slapping against each other. Yuuri buries his face against Victor's neck, until Victor turns his head to find Yuuri’s mouth with his own. They kiss softly, lips full and slick. Yuuri feels the flex of Victor’s ass and thighs beneath his legs, the solid pressure of the wall at his back, and Victor’s hot breath against his cheek as Victor grows harder and thicker inside him.

Yuuri kisses Victor again, lingering and sweet. “I want to see,” he whispers.

At that, Victor groans, sounding desperate. He turns his head and drops it against the wall, his thrusts quick and jerky. His fingers bite into Yuuri’s ass, and then it's his teeth on Yuuri’s shoulder, scraping over the cloth of his dress shirt and tugging as Victor finally comes. Yuuri shuts his eyes, feeling the hot pulses inside him, Victor moaning in his ear.

When he finishes, Victor just stops, leaning heavily against the wall. They're both still panting, hearts hammering, and Yuuri hugs Victor tight to him, face against his shoulder. He feels so tender and raw, showing so much affection and being so open. Victor’s seen everything, knows everything now. Everything has changed.

“I guess,” Yuuri says, and pauses, breathing hard. “I guess you must like me a little.”

Victor laughs, low and tickling his ear. He straightens up, setting Yuuri gently on the ground, still holding his hips. Victor’s a glorious mess, hair tangled and bite marks all over his neck, lips ruddy with kissing. Wetness slides down Yuuri’s leg, warm and slick and real, and he catches his breath and holds it, disbelief rolling over him in waves. They're _here_.

Now Victor lifts a hand, reaching forward to cup Yuuri’s face. “I like you a lot,” he says. His glance slides towards the bedroom, the bed they haven't even touched yet tonight. “Can I show you how much?”

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: sophia-helix


End file.
